Perhaps this is the moment, in the presence of these pictures, to
emphasize Bastien-Lepage's great value as a colourist. Few contemporary
painters have used colour with so much tact, such veritable mastery as
he. Others have employed more dazzling tonal schemes and have achieved
more gorgeous effects, but no one has rendered with such exact truth the
tints of the flesh, the grayish folds of wrinkles, the profound light of
the eye. And his colour is always clear, always unmistakably employed
to produce a sought-after effect. There is no artifice, no trick-work,
it is all straightforward, honest, precise; the opposition of light and
shade never result in opacity, bitumen plays no part in his canvases,
the astonishing relief of which is obtained by means of such perfect
simplicity that it recalls the inimitable technique of Correggio.
In 1878 he exhibited _Hay-making_, that magisterial page from the life
of the fields which to-day is the pride of the Luxembourg museum, and
which the art of the engraver has scattered broadcast to the extent of
millions of copies.
This picture represents a vast sun-bathed meadow, overstrewn with
new-mown hay and punctuated, here and there, by the rounded cones of the
stacks. Against the blue background of the sky, green hill-tops trace an
undulant line. In the foreground a robust, bony-armed country-woman is
seated on the grass, her legs stretched out before her in an attitude
expressive of the utter weariness resulting from the work performed.
Her head, solidly planted on her massive neck, is a marvel of realism;
in her vulgar peasant face we may read health, strength, and a sort of
dulled mentality born of physical fatigue. In every fibre of her
exhausted body the woman is veritably resting, and through her
half-parted lips it seems as though we could detect the passage of her
hurried breathing. The man beside her, no less worn out than she, is
stretched at full length on the thick couch of grass, and with his hat
over his face, to shelter it from the sun, he is sleeping as though dead
to the world.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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